Silence
by NightingaleLost
Summary: Love hurts, but silence hurts even more. Rated T for slight language.


Something I thought up of a while back. Inspired by Un Ramito De Violetas by La Banda El Mexicano.

**Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.**

* * *

"_Augh!_ G-get away from my, y-you -_ngh-_ ch-chain smoking bastard!" The shrieking words turned no heads, being a usual occurrence in the halls. Tweek glared up at the raven, who had accidentally brushed up against him by the blonde's locker, where the coffee-addict was trying to open the metallic object.

Craig turned baleful eyes on him, his hand rising to gift him with his usual gesture of apathy. He said nothing; the time had long passed when he would have said anything in response, monotone voice or not.

They stood staring at each other for a moment, one glaring, one blank of all expression, before Tweek turned back to his locker - effectively dismissing the other - and Craig continued his way to his own locker, across the hall. He could hear Tweek's angry mutters, all directed at him, as he walked away through the crowd; he wondered how many days of enmity had passed between them since their fight in the third grade.

Craig gathered the things he needed, taking only a moment, and walked back the way he came, catching sight of Tweek. The blonde was now smiling, a white rose and note held in jittery hands, both objects which had obviously been hidden in his locker. Craig mentally ticked off another day that Tweek had received flowers and notes.

As he passed, someone bumped into him, causing_ him_ to bump into the person who had never forgiven him. Tweek squealed, dropping the rose, and Craig stopped, wondering if he should pick it up. Tweek's reaction gave him his response; the blonde saw him an darted down, snatching up the flower and holding it jealously to his breast while he snapped,

"D-don't touch it! _Ngh_, y-you'll contaminate i-it!"

The tiniest scoff worked its way from Craig's lips, and Tweek immediately jumped on it, his hands tightening around the flower and note.

"You're ju-just jealous." The blonde said snidely, his face turning happier again as he glanced down at the lovely rose. "_Ngh,_ n-n-no one likes you enough t-to send _you_ flowers."

Craig looked at him for a second, then turned to continue walking to class. But even through the noise of the crowd, he could have sworn he heard Tweek's contemptuous 'hmph'.

* * *

Full night was upon the town, darkening it so shadows were nonexistent in the black. It was three hours before the sun would rise above the horizon, and school would begin.

In the empty school, the only first story window with a broken lock slid open, and a shadowy figure climbed through. Glancing around into the dark, he slid it closed again, and walked slowly down the hallways to a certain wing of a certain building, where a certain blonde's locker was.

Stopping in front of the desired place, he twirled the lock expertly, having known the combination ever since he'd passed a fully concentrating Tweek in this very spot, muttering three numbers over and over again as he tried to open the locker. That had been months ago; it seemed like a lifetime. Reaching into the front of his jacket, he pulled out a carefully wrapped bunch of lilies, a red rose in the center, and a note, carefully written in a purposely different hand. He knew the words by heart; he had written them.

_If emeralds shone brighter,_

_ they could never match your eyes._

_ If angels spoke sweeter,_

_ they could never match your voice._

_ If the wind was a silver bell,_

_ it could never match your laugh._

_If I was perfect,_

_ I could never match you._

It ended like all the other notes had ended.

_I love you._

Craig allowed himself one sad smile as he tucked the gifts lovingly into the locker, his fingers lingering slightly on them.

This was all he could do. No matter how much he loved, or how deep, Tweek would never accept him. He saw the dislike, even hate in those shimmering green eyes, and he knew he didn't have a chance. He never would.

Closing the locker, he clicked the lock closed, turning around to leave from where he'd come from. Tomorrow he would see Tweek open his locker and smile over the gifts, see his eyes traverse the words written on the note. Tomorrow Tweek would glare at him, spit out shuddering scathing words from his lovely mouth.

And when Craig's heart throbbed, he would do what he'd done for years, and stay silent.


End file.
